


Two Days

by Cards_Slash



Series: Arabian Stallions [6]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Boring Parties, Exhibitionism, M/M, Sex, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Malik's Friday involves too much sex, Friday night taxes his patience and Saturday morning starts with a bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Days

The first mistake of the day had been forgetting to turn his stupid alarm off. It woke him up at six-thirty (AM, unfortunately) which had been perfectly fine the day before when Malik had actually planned on going to the gym. It should have been a simple matter of roll-over, turn phone off and go back to sleep but he found himself staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes before giving in and getting out of bed.

The second mistake was actually going to the gym. 

The third mistake was giving Kadar momentary control over their schedule as he apparently had an inability to read dates and times correctly. There was a rule about not accepting more than two clients a day. When Malik had checked the schedule again (once all his hickeys and bite marks had faded away to very nearly nothing) he discovered the clusterfuck that was Friday. 

The fourth mistake was letting Altair’s stupid perfect face and incredible oral sex skills convince him into going to a ‘work party thing’.

\--

Appointment one was Henrietta who had been a client of theirs for nearly two years. Kadar was an occasional participant because there simply was no maintaining the illusion of his interest in women over an extended period. Henrietta was a beautiful woman in her mid-forties with two adult children that never-ever showed up (according to her) that had discovered breast cancer a few years back which caused her husband to leave her. She took the money he sent her (guilt money, she called it) and spent it on fine food and fancy hookers (that was him and his brother) because she could. 

“You could talk a saint into sin,” Henrietta always said to Kadar when he lounged at her side naked-and-smiling. He filled her ears with filth, stories of the people they’d fucked, of how they’d fucked them, of how he liked to get fucked. He regaled her with the story of Altair fucking him against the couch using no-names but stage-names while Malik fucked Henrietta into a startling three orgasms. 

Appointment two was a new client, one thin-and-pale type who looked as if he belonged in some room filled with computers and numbers and definitely not ordering exotic looking sex workers on the internet. He babbled constantly, spilling a whole encyclopedia of facts about ‘the Middle East’ and ‘their people’. Malik graciously allowed Kadar to take the lead and did his best to suffocate the man’s vaguely-offensive stream of consciousness. When being subtle didn’t work, Malik stuck his dick down the man’s throat and the blessed silence made up for the subpar blowjob he theatrically enjoyed. 

Kadar slapped him when they were safely in the car. “Never try to fake again. I can fake—you can stoically tolerate. People like that about you, how you don’t care about them. Stick to what you’re good at.”

They had a late lunch because they still had another client and half to go and it was very nearly impossible to think about getting hard again without having the urge to curl up and start crying. Kadar spent the whole time nervously chattering about his plans to ‘go back to school’ and what ‘career would be good for him’ and Malik nodded along while he thought about the sleep he wasn’t getting.

Client three was ‘The Twins’ who were a set of perverted sisters that liked to watch him make out with his brother shirtless. They also enjoyed torturing Kadar with their vaginas and he obliged them with his continuing horror. Malik was mainly there for set dressing and once in a while he acted as a living dildo when Kadar wasn’t amusing enough. Malik liked them because they were shameless and they enjoyed themselves. “You’re too precious,” one of them said to Kadar with a sticky-red kiss against his cheek. They were limp and sated when Malik-and-Kadar left them. 

“Remind me never ever to accept them again. Why do you keep accepting them? Is it because you hate me? Did you see what they did in there? They’re sadists!” Kadar shuddered, “don’t tell me it’s the money. I know it’s the money. I am aware.”

Client four was another new client. It was a man and an unidentifiable gray-haired age that wanted a very elaborate blow job. (Hence why he was considered ‘half’ an appointment. They weren’t even required to remove their clothing.) So they spent forty minutes on their knees swapping spit across the man’s decently-nice dick.

\--

Malik had fallen asleep after his shower. It hadn’t been purposeful, he had simply sat on the side of his bed with the intention of putting his pants and socks on and woke up an hour and twenty six minutes later when his phone wouldn’t stop ringing. There was one black sock still clenched in his hand when he grabbed blindly for his phone in the sudden dimness of the room. 

“Yeah—what? Hello.” He pulled the phone away from his face to see who he had even just answered and was pleasantly surprised to see it was Altair. 

“I guess that answers why you haven’t been responding to my texts. You were supposed to be at my house ten minutes ago.” He didn’t sound reproachful because Altair did not sound reproachful. But he could manage disappointed and he was very good at arrogant condescension. (Which Malik discovered was how Altair treated anyone that upset him for any possible reason. Like, even the mundane reasons like forgetting to put the cap on the toothpaste.)

“Shit,” Malik said. He looked at the clock on his nightstand and shoved himself up out of the tangle of sheets-and-blankets. His pants were laying on the floor and his other sock was lost (possibly forever). “Sorry, I fell asleep. How late are we going to be?”

“Your place is on the way, so if you’re ready in five minutes we should arrive a fashionable ten minutes late,” Altair said. 

Malik agreed and managed to dress himself in nice clothes that didn’t make him look like a sex worker or a slob (it was surprisingly how little clothing he had once he eliminated those two categories). He was outside with a travel mug of coffee and a groggy feeling of being too hungover to function when Altair pulled up. 

Altair cast him a look that questioned his health and Malik smiled in as apologetic a manner as he could. 

\--

The party was dull as hell. There were awards and chitchat and finance jokes that Altair didn’t even laugh at. They sat next to a married couple that were the super-intrigued sort and not the quietly-disapproving sort or even the accepting-but-polite sort. The wife especially had the hardest time in the world believing that Altair (of all people!) had gone from his sweet-faced little wife to this (admittedly handsome) Middle Eastern man. 

If Malik had been asked if he could speak ‘Middle Eastern’ or ‘I’m sorry I don’t know what language you speak’ one more time he might have snapped and started shouting at them in Arabic before storming out of the building dragging Altair behind him by the collar of his shirt. 

After the awards and the mind-numbing small talk over dry and pasty hors d'oeuvre there was the mingling portion with sappy-soft piano music. Altair looked as if he would rather have stuck a spoon through his eye. 

“When you asked me to come to this party you probably should have mentioned it was your coming out party,” Malik said. He leaned in close enough to him that when he whispered in Arabic he was reasonable sure that nobody else would hear him.

“Sorry,” Altair said, “I didn’t think I’d actually go through with it.” 

Then there was the main course and a few guest speakers that went on and on about things that Malik only vaguely recognized from long-ago when he was still a student. He pushed his food around his plate with his fork (he picked one at random) while he ignored the constant stares aimed at him. 

They were finally able to leave (hurray) but it was almost fucking midnight and he couldn’t even figure out where the hell the last five hours of his life had gone. 

“Your place is closer,” Altair said. Malik didn’t care where they went so long as he found a bed and was able to lay in it until the end of the world. (Retrospectively, it might have been the smoothest thing that Altair had ever said to him. Considering that Altair had never stayed at his place before or even seen the inside of it.)

\--

Malik was an awful host. He made a sandwich that filled the hole in his stomach left by the non-food provided by the party and then shuffled around getting ready for bed. Altair watched the late-show and followed him down the hallway to his room and stood there with both hands on his tie like he wasn’t even sure what to do.

“Bed,” Malik informed him, “sleep.”

Altair snorted but he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed with him. It was a smaller-bed than Altair’s-bed (number one of the reasons why they always slept at Altair’s place). Malik was plaint and obliging when Altair kissed him but he was already two-thirds asleep too. “I’m waking you up in the morning by sitting on your dick,” Altair said.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” Malik mumbled, “lube too. Not before eight.”

\--

Malik woke up to terrible sunlight and Altair’s slick fist wrapped around his dick. He blinked again-and-again until the world around him came into slow focus through the painful brightness of the sun. His hands were quicker to accept than his eyes because they were already wrapped around Altair’s slim hips, pulling him down as his hips pushed up. There was something disorienting but deeply satisfying about waking up to the feeling of sliding into Altair. 

“Morning,” Altair said. His right hand was slippery against Malik’s ribs when he steadied himself. His ass clenched around him and the muscles in his thighs bunched and loosened as he wiggled until he found exactly how he wanted to arrange himself. 

“Morning,” Malik said. His voices sounded like a garbage disposal and his mouth tasted like unwashed feet. There was an ache somewhere around his knees (from that one man’s stupidly hard floor and lack of convenient cushions) but his whole body was warm and content to be used. “How long have you been awake?”

“Seven,” Altair said. He started rocking his hips, doing almost nothing but grinding his ass back so Malik’s dick inside of him rubbed against his prostate in a way that made his dick twitch and his breath start to get heavy-and-wet. 

Malik turned his head to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was eight-o-one exactly and he groaned hatefully at the time. “You are the very soul of patience,” he said.

“Shut up, your mouth is interfering with my enjoyment of your dick. Go back to sleep, I’ve got this.” There was no evidence in his body that Malik’s words were interrupting him at all, his head was tipped back and his left hand was rubbing up and down his own thigh as he rolled his hips down against him. 

“You’re so thoughtful.” Malik pinched one of his nipples and Altair’s hips jerked forward and he looked down at him with a disapproving dip of his eyebrows. He leaned forward, shifted his weight so that he was pushing back onto Malik’s dick instead of rocking in place. The angle-wasn’t-right but the pretty-pink flush on Altair’s cheeks got rosier anyway. “Are you trying to put me to sleep?” he asked.

“I could sing you a lullaby,” Altair offered. He was moving, getting his feet under him so he was crouching with his knees spread wide open and both of his hands against Malik’s ribs. His tongue ran across his lips and he straightened up again, tipped his shoulders back so that he had to reach behind him to grab Malik’s leg to balance himself. He lifted up and dropped down again in a slow rhythm, gasping his greedy enjoyment every time Malik’s dick slid all the way inside. “I can’t think of any,” Altair said.

“I think I’m starting to wake up,” Malik assured him. He reached down to run his thumb along the stretched-open hole where his dick was moving in Altair and grinned at the whine of surprise Altair made. He moved up to grip his bobbing dick to stroke him in time with the slow rhythm Altair set. “Were you thinking about this at that terrible party last night?”

“God,” Altair said. His blush was embarrassed and aroused and he nodded his head. One of Altair’s hands was clenched on his own knee and the long tips of his hair were stuck to his forehead. “Not exactly like this,” he said.

“I thought about this,” Malik said. “I thought about dragging you into my lap—wouldn’t they have liked that? Watching you enjoy yourself on my dick.” He tightened his hand around Altair and the man dropped down harder on him, slapped their hips together and wriggled in place. 

“Fuck me,” Altair said. He pulled up just far enough to give Malik the space to thrust up into him. Malik started slow, working out how hard and how fast he wanted to go as he kicked the blankets off his leg. The bed had a helpful bounce to it but the headboard slapped against the wall and Altair looked momentarily horrified at the sound. “Is that your neighbors over there?” Altair asked.

Malik tipped his head back to look at the wall because for just a moment he had absolutely no idea who was on the other side of it. “No, Kadar. Lazy ass should be awake anyway.” He wrapped his hands around Altair’s waist and his thigh and moved faster-and-harder. 

“Oh fuck,” Altair said, “fuck, fuck—right there, oh fuck, fuck me.” His fist was working at his dick ruthlessly and his voice was getting tighter and higher until it was an endless moan with broken words dropped now and again. His whole body tensed when he came. Altair nearly-collapsed forward but caught himself with his spread fingers over Malik’s chest. “Oh fuck, keep fucking me, don’t stop.”

Malik dragged him down and then lifted him up again only to pull him down hard and Altair gasped soundlessly as his body slumped over forward and his eyes squeezed shut. It-was-beautiful-and-unreal because nobody-in-the-world enjoyed getting dicked the way Altair did. Malik fucked up into him again, slower-but-harder and Altair’s breathing skipped in place and his hand was leaving bruises on his own damn knee. 

“Over,” Malik said. 

Altair went easily, fell to the side and dragged his body up high enough on the bed to put his head on the pillows. He stretched like a lazy cat, all sinew and muscle before he spread open his legs and motioned Malik between them. “Going to make me do it again?”

“We really need to talk about your greed,” Malik said. He found the lube sitting on the table and used it slick himself again before he thrust back into Altair with one long-push. Any-other-day he would fuck the man until he couldn’t take it but it was eight in the morning and he wanted nothing but the sweet-forgiving oblivion of orgasm. 

He fucked Altair hard-and-fast, knocked the headboard against the wall until he heard something crash in Kadar’s room and there was a shout of protest from down the hall. Altair was laughing-like-crying as he put his elbow over his head to keep from being knocked into the headboard and wrapped his legs around Malik like he was only trying to hang on. 

“Fuck,” Altair said in between giggles, “oh fuck.” He was stroking his own dick again and Malik-couldn’t-believe-it (but he could). “Are you going to come?” Altair said, “I want you to come on me. I want it all over me.”

“I’m going to come on your face,” Malik growled at him. And Altair’s smile went all wicked and pleased. His body tightened around Malik as he arched into his own orgasm (greedy-fucking-bastard). Malik pulled out of him when he collapsed on the bed and crawled up his body as he stripped off the condom and came all over his blissful face. 

“Are you finished now?” Kadar shouted through the wall. “You broke my fucking picture frame!”

Malik couldn’t breathe, definitely couldn’t talk, just collapsed to the side and lay there. Altair sighed a pleased little noise and reached down to stroke Malik’s dick a few times (like thanking him) before he went still. 

\--

Malik woke up five hours later, stumbled through a shower and out to the kitchen to find something to eat. He discovered Altair in the living room playing Call of Duty (Black Ops, maybe?) with Kadar. Maria was sitting in the arm chair with a sack of take-out burgers next to her and a unbelievably oversized soda in one hand. 

“I didn’t think it was possible to be any worse at this game than Kadar,” she was saying, “but you are really, really bad.”

“Shut up,” Altair said, “it’s the controller.” He looked over at Malik and smiled at him brilliantly before tossing the controller over at Maria who only just managed to catch it instead of dropping it. Kadar objected about the treatment of his toys. “Morning,” Altair said.

“Afternoon,” Maria amended. “Morning was when he was supposed to be awake so he could go with me to intimidate the furniture people.”

“I offered,” Kadar said.

“You’re a defenseless puppy. I need someone that looks like they could inflict real harm on someone.” She paused the game and Kadar glared at her but she just stuck her tongue out at him before she set the controller down on the table by the chair. 

Malik sat on the love seat and Altair moved with no attempts at subtlety to sit next to him. “I forgot that was today. We can still go.” Except that he wanted to do absolutely nothing but lay around and enjoy the peace and tranquility that came with having no appointments or obligations.

“You should take Altair,” Kadar said, “I know he looks goofy and all right now but he has one seriously impressive glare. Plus he does math stuff or something for a living.”

“We could all go,” Altair said, “the furniture people won’t even know what hit them.” 

“I’m not sure Malik would make it, he looks a little bit like putty.” She had a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at him but there was a devious-little-smirk hiding in her eyes. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to introduce her to Altair and from the pleased gleam on her face there was no way Kadar hadn’t mentioned his precious broken picture frame. 

“Oops,” Altair said. 

“I told you they’re fucking disgusting,” Kadar said.

Maria nodded. “I am disgusted. How about we plan to meet up _next Saturday_ and whoever is responsible enough to keep a decent calendar can remember that. I’ll take whoever promises to intimidate salesmen for me.” She was standing up and grabbing for her bag. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment in about an hour so I must away to make myself attractive.” She kicked the bag of food across to Kadar who took it with glee. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Altair. I hope to see you again.”

“You too,” Altair said.

Maria showed herself out and Altair waited until her footsteps were gone before he said, “she didn’t even drool on my shoes.”

Kadar snorted, “that’s because Malik wasn’t around. She's polite enough to do it in front of him instead of behind his back. I don’t think I’ve seen her that instantly turned on since—” He went all blank for a second and stared down at the still wrapped up burger in his hands for a long moment before saying. “Yeah, never.”

“I am hot as hell,” Altair said.

Malik rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, dear.” Then he held his hand out for Kadar to pass him the controller. They played for maybe-thirty minutes while Altair got increasingly less interested. It started as too-much shifting and then too-many questions and then went all quiet and still for a matter of minutes. Kadar filled the space with curses and shouts at the TV and Malik mocked him for his ineptitude. 

Then Altair’s hand slid across his thigh and down between his legs to where his dick had been idly existing. It wasn’t shocking, exactly, but Malik was busy so he slapped him away. It lasted for three-damn-minutes before his hand was back again rubbing at his thigh. 

“I’m playing this game,” Malik said.

Kadar looked over at them when he spoke and grinned when he saw Altair’s hand. “No keep doing that.” Because he had never learned to play fair. “No—dude, you should blow him. I will give you fifty bucks if you can get him to drop the controller before you’re done.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not that cheap,” Altair said. (He would have done it for free and bragging rights if Kadar hadn’t offered money though.) 

“Seventy five?” Kadar said cautiously.

“Do I get a say in this?” Malik asked, “I feel like I should get a say in this.”

“I feel like you’ve been hard since your brother said ‘blow job’.” Altair’s hand was pressed against his dick again, rubbing at him through his thin pajama pants. “It seems like a no lose situation for you.”

“A hundred?” Kadar said. He was restarting the game and Altair was moving off the edge of the love seat to settle between Malik’s legs. Kadar threw him a cushion to kneel on and Altair thanked him like a civilized person. 

“I need this hundred dollars,” Altair said. He was leaning forward with both of his arms across Malik’s thighs and his fingers playing with the button on the front of his pants. “Please?”

“Fine, but no sexual contact of any kind with my brother today,” he said. Altair lifted up to kiss him oh-so-sweetly and then moved down again. 

\--

Thirty minutes later, Kadar was cursing at both of them as he ran off to the bathroom to deal with his raging hard on, the game was playing a chorus of failure somewhere across the room and Malik was lying flat across the love seat with his head kind of spinning from how hard he’d just come down Altair’s throat. Altair was poised above him with a red-swollen smirk on his face. 

Malik was considerate enough to jerk him off before Kadar came back with his keys to their car and his wallet mumbling angrily about how he had to go to the bank. Once he was gone, Altair sat easily in his lap with a deviously-confident smile on his face. 

“Why are you mad at your brother?” he said. And honestly, Malik wasn't even interested in what clues Altair had used to arrive at that conclusion. (Maybe he was too afraid it revolved solely around the fact that he would share his boyfriend with his brother.)

“He overbooked us yesterday,” Malik said. Then he yawned and stretched. “I should get dressed. We could go get something to eat and go back to your place where the bed and the nice shower is.”

“You should,” Altair said. He rubbed the little white spots of his semen into Malik’s skin as he spoke. “Ezio’s going to be there tomorrow though. I promised I wouldn’t punch him again, but you can still hit him if you want.”

“I never wanted to hit him, well—not like you did. How often did you two fight that there’s a no hitting in the face rule?” Malik asked. 

Altair smiled distractedly at the question. “We are very much alike, sometimes. I’m older than he is but he has spent most of his life trying to mother me. Sometimes, it’s endearing and sometimes it’s not. When it’s not I usually hit him because he doesn’t respond to anything less. Plus, he’s very vain so you aren’t allowed to do anything to his face.”

Malik snorted at that. “Alright, let me up.”

“I’m not finished yet.” Altair was smearing the last of the white spots across his skin with a triumphant smile on his face before he licked his fingers. Malik knocked him off the couch sideways and Altair laughed as he fell.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I had killed this particular idea but alas, Altair would not be dissuaded.


End file.
